


Nachschlag

by Himmelreich



Series: Tokyo Ghoul AU [2]
Category: Aldnoah.Zero (Anime), Tokyo Ghoul
Genre: Alternate Universe, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-11-25
Updated: 2015-11-25
Packaged: 2018-05-03 09:25:28
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 2
Words: 11,489
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5285447
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Himmelreich/pseuds/Himmelreich
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p><b>Nachschlag (der, m., noun)</b>: <i>second helping</i></p><p><b>Chapter One: Croûtons: </b>The sequel/epilogue of sorts to <a href="http://archiveofourown.org/works/4566942/chapters/10399158">Licht und Schatten</a> a.k.a. "I just really wanted to write about Cruhteo Investigator siblings, sue me".</p><p><b>Chapter Two: Aperitif:</b> An utterly self-indulgent gift to meguri_aite and a prequel to the original fic of sorts focussing on Marito and Yagarai.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Croûtons

**Notes for the Chapter:**

>  **Croûtons, die (noun):**  
>  **1.** _small pieces of fried or toasted bread served with soup or salad_  
>  **2.** _a family of Vers aristocrats_
> 
> Yes, I’ve promised to post this, what, months ago? In my defence, in the meantime I’ve literally ended up in a ditch twice. And while I'm here, I just want to express my gratitude to the person on pixiv who drew [this gem](http://www.pixiv.net/member_illust.php?mode=manga_big&illust_id=53113481&page=11).

“You know what really hurts, Slaine?”

Slaine stopped short and almost dropped the stack of printouts he had been skimming over. He looked up with a start and found that during his brief trip to the laboratory the swivel chair at his desk had been occupied by someone else in a familiar white coat, which was strange enough to begin with. 

Investigators rarely came over to the Research Division in person without prior announcement or urgency, and Slaine blinked at his younger brother in confusion as Klancain made no move whatsoever to get up. Instead, he leaned forward with his usual perpetual suave smile, his interlaced hands resting on the tabletop.

“It’s having to hear your brother is dating someone from a work colleague instead of from your brother himself.”

For a second, Slaine tried to grasp the situation before he realised that it had to have been Mazuurek who had told his brother about their run-in at the coffee shop the other day, and he silently cursed this turn of events. He knew Klancain well enough that he realised he would not be getting away with a flimsy excuse, and while he had known that it was an inevitable conversation, he would have liked to stall it even longer. But now, there was no going back. 

He had prepared for such a scenario beforehand, going through exactly what he had to say should someone ever ask, so that now he did not have to scramble for an explanation but could proceed calmly. He cleared his throat and crossed the threshold, shutting the door behind him just in case someone might feel inclined to eavesdrop.

“I didn’t mean to keep it from you. It’s a recent thing, and I wasn’t sure how to bring it up to you. I’m sorry.”

“I’m not here for an apology. I was only a bit-” Klancain hesitated, lifting one hand to make a vague wavy gesture that could have meant literally anything and nothing before he continued, “I guess I was a bit worried that you don’t trust me enough to tell me these things. We are family after all, right?”

“That’s not it. You know I do trust you. I didn’t want to get you into a predicament if I told you about it is all.”

Klancain frowned. He looked a lot more like his father when he did, Slaine noticed with an odd pang of unease. It was still strange to see them appear so similar now, the double-breasted uniform coat testament to the legacy of the Cruhteo family within the CCG.

“I don’t understand.”

“I don’t think father would, well, _approve_ of who I’m seeing, and I didn’t want to get you involved in that conflict and make you pick sides,” Slaine delivered smoothly, walking up to the desk and putting the papers down at last. He was not even lying about that. He could say with absolute certainty that Cruhteo would do the opposite of approve of Inaho.

“Oh.” Klancain paused, looking somewhat concerned. “I know you and father have your problems, especially after you quit field work, but I doubt he’d care about your choice in partners. He knows not everyone of us can marry another successful Investigator like he did, so even if it’s not someone from the department-”

“It’s not.”

“So, what of it? I don’t think he’d be against you dating some civilian. Unless- don’t tell me it’s a married woman? Slaine, that would be a very foolish-”

“It’s not.”

Klancain sighed in obvious relief, and Slaine involuntarily chuckled at the mental image. No doubts Cruhteo would have been horrified if his foster son had started an affair of that sort, and given that the truth was way worse, it had been as good a guess as any.

“Excuse me for thinking you’d do something like that. It’s just, I can’t think of any reason you’d be so worried about father learning of your girlfriend’s existence.”

“Well,” Slaine said, meeting his brother’s eyes steadfast and deciding to play his one strong card at ending this discussion in relatively safe territory. The trick to successfully keeping the truth from someone was to feed them half-truths slowly one at a time instead of telling a single clearcut lie from the get-go. “It’s not a girlfriend.”

It took some moments for Klancain to process the meaning behind these words, clearly, and Slaine thought it was testament to Cruhteo’s diplomatic upbringing that his son’s facial expression did not waver for even a second as he got up and circled around the desk to gently put a hand on Slaine’s shoulder, inclining his head slightly so they were on eye-level. Even if they were not of the same blood and less than nine months apart in age, sometimes it still irked Slaine that Klancain had grown up to be taller than him.

“I’m sorry for cornering you,” he said, genuinely, and Slaine felt slight remorse for keeping the actual truth from his brother. It was for his own sake, though. “And please know that you have my full support as long as you’re happy.”

“I am. Thank you.”

Slaine meant it, and Klancain’s expression lightened up.

“And I suppose you’re right, it certainly will take time for father to stomach such news. He tends to be a bit... strict and old-fashioned,” he ended weakly, and Slaine barely was able to suppress a laugh, because truly, that was an understatement. “So, I won’t tell him. My lips are sealed.”

Slaine decided he had successfully dodged a bullet there. It had not all been a lie, because he had been worried about judgemental reactions about this circumstance of his relationship, too, but considering the more important factor, the Inaho-is-male-part to it also was an excellent diversion. 

“Thank you very much, I know I can rely on you.”

Klancain gave his shoulder an affectionate squeeze before leaning back against the desk with his arms crossed and a challenging glint to his eyes.

“I do demand to be introduced to this person, however,” he said, and all relief Slaine had felt a second before dropped right through the floor beneath him into the ninth circle of hell. “After all, I need to make sure my only brother is in good hands.”

・◇・◇・◇・

“Klancain wants to meet you,” Slaine announced by the by, keeping his eyes fixed on Inko and Rayet who were in the middle of demonstrating incapacitation techniques to some new Deucalion members. 

They were in one of the storage halls Magbaredge rented out for these exact same purposes, and Tsumugi had just made forceful and close contact with the concrete floor for the seventh time in less then ten minutes now. Slaine heard Matsuribi give an impressed whistle and felt vaguely sympathetic.

“He’s the foster sibling you mentioned before, isn’t he?” Inaho asked, sounding distracted. A sideway glance told Slaine that indeed, the other was preoccupied with taking a closer look at the Q bullets of Slaine’s gun. He had clearly observed his share of fighting lessons before and was not as interested as Slaine anymore. “Sure, I don’t mind.”

“He’s my brother, yes. He’s also a very capable Investigator.”

Slaine’s change in tone had the intended result as Inaho lifted his head now, giving him a quizzical look.

“I know he is, you mentioned that, too. It’ll be fine, no need to worry about it, is there?”

“I don’t know,” Slaine admitted miserably, slouching down a bit further down the wall he was sitting leaning against. “He can’t possibly know, and yet, I’m worried. If he finds out, that would be bad. It’s difficult enough to maintain cover as it is, I don’t even want to imagine what would happen if it got more personal.”

Inaho’s expression softened and Slaine thought he sort of envied Inaho for the fact that there were no heavy secrets weighing down on the Kaizuka siblings’ relationship. Not that Yuki had been overjoyed when Inaho had told her about his decision to date a mortal enemy, but there had been no need to lie about it, either.

“Don’t worry, it’ll work out. All he wants is to get to know his brother’s partner, that’s normal I guess. I won’t give him any reason to doubt you.”

Slaine huffed and nudged Inaho’s knee with his own.

“Yes, because you’re so amazing at dealing with people.”

“Was that sarc-”

“Hey, you turtledoves,” Rayet called out at them in that moment. Slaine could see several of the Ghouls present flinch at the term he had long given up protesting against. “How about you making yourself useful and help us? Yutarou here looks like he could need a break.”

Indeed he did. Slaine gave Rayet a noncommittal smile.

“My shoulder joints don’t heal as fast as yours once you break them, so I pass, thank you very much.”

Inaho reloaded the gun again, handed it back to Slaine and got to his feet with a sigh.

“Tell your brother I’m fine with meeting him whenever. I know it’s important to you.”

Watching how Rayet and Inaho got into position, Slaine allowed himself a beat of optimism. Maybe it really was just about Klancain wanting to get to know Inaho, and the prospect of the people closest to him getting along was almost too good to be true.

He barely registered Rayet cursing under her breath as Inaho took one victory, busy typing a message to his brother. He hovered over _Send_ for a second, and then decided that the longer he would drag this out, the more suspicions might arise as to why he was stalling. And Inaho had been right - Klancain was not suspecting anything, so what could go wrong?

・◇・◇・◇・

“You must be Kaizuka Inaho. I’m glad we finally get to meet,” Klancain started with a bright smile the moment Inaho had come into view and before Slaine could even make any attempt at introducing them to each other. 

It was a sunny Saturday afternoon, and as per usual, they had arrived at the rendezvous point early. Cruhteo had been very strict in matters of punctuality in their upbringing, and Slaine had found it a habit hard to shake off. Probably as much as coming in formal wear to even such a casual outing. Seeing that Inaho was wearing a slightly oversized beige sweater and jeans, he felt slightly overdressed.

“Cruhteo-san, is it?” Inaho asked. “Likewise. Slaine has mentioned you quite often.”

“Hopefully only saying good things about me. And please, Klancain is fine, save that other form address for our father.”

Klancain extended his hand and Slaine watched as Inaho seemed to hesitate for a split second before taking it, flinching slightly at the firm shake that followed. It was unlike Klancain to insist on Western forms of courtesy in this environment, and Slaine was about to ask when Klancain already stepped back, looking serene as usual. 

“So,” Slaine began instead, trying to appear as if he was not currently carefully observing the meet-up between enemy predators but instead overseeing only the introduction of acquaintances, “now that you’ve met, what do we want to do with the rest of the afternoon?”

“I’ve been helping out at the laboratory up until just now and haven’t had lunch yet, so how about we go have a bite?” 

Inaho looked at Klancain as he said that and Slaine half hoped his brother would decline in favour of a walk or some other activity. Inaho was prepared to go out of his way to help Slaine keep up the charade and dispel any doubts about his humanity, but if he could help it, he would rather not test just how far that deception could fool someone as keen-witted and observant as Klancain.

Unfortunately, Klancain did the opposite.

“Sure, let it be my treat- no, Slaine, I insist,” he cut short Slaine’s attempted protest right off the bat, “given I dragged you out like this in the first place. I know a nice restaurant around here which makes the best galettes outside France, if that’s alright with you?”

“Sounds great.”

In moments like these, Slaine was grateful for the fact that Inaho kept a flawless pokerface in general, and it was only because of all the time he had spent with him that he was able to spot the subtle undertone of exasperation. 

 

Despite Inaho’s usual lack of social graces, the conversation went along smoothly. Klancain predictably asked about how they had come to know each other, for which Slaine and Inaho had prepared a fixed narrative according to which they had met when Slaine had been sent to Inaho’s university to investigate the case of missing students. That had been a real mission a few weeks before the Trillram incident, actually, so it was a solid alibi.

“So you’ve met before your abduction, then,” Klancain summed up pensively, stirring his tea. 

“Is that surprising to you?” Slaine asked.

“Not really. I was just thinking that it must have been horrible for Inaho-san when you disappeared and he had no way to find out what had happened.” Klancain set the tea spoon aside and gave Inaho an amicable smile. “You must have been very worried. And in cases such as these, it would have been nice if Slaine had introduced us before.”

“I have trust in him not dying so easily,” Inaho replied evenly before taking another bite of his food. Slaine silently admired the human performance.

“By the way, I’ve noticed before when shaking your hand that your arm seems injured.”

Inaho halted in his movement, eyes narrowing ever so slightly. Slaine took a deep breath and forced himself not to give any startled reaction. Klancain seemed oblivious of the tense atmosphere, taking a sip of his tea and evidently waiting for an answer.

“That’s right.” Inaho pushed back his right sleeve, revealing the arm was wrapped in bandages underneath. “A steel wire in the model we’re currently working on in the laboratory snapped and I was hit. The cut isn’t deep, though.”

“I’m glad to hear it’s not a severe injury, but you should be more careful in the future. Such injuries can scar badly.”

“You haven’t mentioned this accident,” Slaine said sharply, but Inaho only shrugged, pushing the sleeve back down. Obviously, that story was not true, and if Slaine had known Inaho was injured, he would have moved the date for this meeting back. It was one more observation Klancain should not have made.

“You’d only have worried about something that’s already in the past, so I thought I’d rather not mention it.”

“He’s a person who cares a lot about those close to him,” Klancain agreed, sounding chipper. It was impossible to tell what he was thinking, Slaine realised with unease. Different from his father, he had not such a notoriously short temper that would betray his true emotions.

Picking up on the question as to what model Inaho was currently working on, the conversation shifted to topics of scientific research, a common ground for all of them in at least some aspects. Slaine paid close attention to any possible traps or veiled questions, but it seemed Klancain was genuinely interested in only listening to Inaho giving a short lecture about whatever inductor related shielding abilities his professor’s last project hat been about. He only interrupted himself for a brief moment when a waitress came by to clear the table.

“How about it,” Klancain asked once Inaho had finished, “why don’t you join the Research Division of the CCG once you’ve graduated? Sounds like that might be your sort of thing.”

“I might consider it,” Inaho replied vaguely, casting a quick look at his phone’s time. Slaine knew the longer Inaho would wait to throw up the poisonous food, the worse the consequences would be. “I haven’t decided yet what to do. Working for the CCG does have its risks, even if it’s not as an Investigator.”

“Well, if you do decide to try it, let me know. I’m sure the Cruhteo family can see to some added benefits.” The wink was clear in Klancain’s voice as he stood up, rebuttoning his jacket. “I’m sorry if I’ve kept you too long, let me just pay and then you’re released from this questioning.”

As he watched his brother walk over to the counter, Slaine heard Inaho exhale somewhat shakily. 

“Are you alright?” he asked in a hushed voice.

“I haven’t been this sick in years,” Inaho admitted miserably. “But it’s fine. Let’s not repeat this too soon, though.”

“Definitely not.”

Slaine smiled in spite of his strained nerves as Klancain signalled that they were good to go. As he walked over to the door side by side with Inaho, he leaned in and said quietly: “I owe you for this, Inaho.”

Inaho considered this for a moment.

“Treat me to dinner sometime again,” he then replied with an impossibly straight face, giving Slaine’s arm a mocking pat as he passed him by. 

・◇・◇・◇・

“So, what did you think?” Slaine asked as casually as possible as they were making their way down a quiet side street heading for the station. It was already getting dark, the city slowly fading into neon advertisements and orange street lights, and as he stole a glance at his brother from the corner of his eyes, Slaine could only tell that he looked his usual composed self.

“Of Kaizuka-san, you mean?” Klancain gave a contemplative hum, then turned his head towards Slaine. “Well, he’s a nice person, very level-headed and straight-forward. I can see what you like about him.”

Slaine considered marking this down as a success, but Klancain already continued in the same light tone as before.

“And I do agree it was best not to tell father about this. He might be able to get over the fact that your partner isn’t a CCG member, and even over the fact that it’s a man, but I do think he would have severe trouble accepting the fact he’s a ghoul.”

Slaine froze on the spot as if he had hit an invisible wall and stared at Klancain’s back in shock for a second before gathering all countenance he could muster.

“What was that?”

“Oh, Slaine,” Klancain said, tone gently mocking. He came to a halt as well and turned to face Slaine, his smile not reaching the sharp eyes he had inherited from his father. “I know it’s easy for older siblings to underestimate the younger ones, but do you really give me this little credit as an Investigator?”

“What are you talking about?” 

The inevitable consequences of Inaho and his group with their identities exposed flashed before Slaine’s mind’s eye. It would be his fault that all their hard work of establishing Deucalion would go to waste, and the thought hurt more than the disappointment that was written all over his brother’s face. 

It probably had been foolish of Slaine to think he could have avoided this outcome and keep the secret forever, and knowing the Crutheo family’s principles, there was no changing it now. Yet, he owed his friends to try, at the very least.

“Slaine, you’ve disappeared for almost a month and returned almost entirely unharmed save for one suspicious injury.”

Slaine automatically reached for where the scar tissue lay hidden beneath his sleeves, a wound he had reported to have probably suffered during his escape. The x-rays taken at the CCG hospital had confirmed his claim of having sustained head injury, so he head been able to get away with somewhat vague memories of the provenance of the wound during the sheer endless hearings and interrogations. 

“More importantly you returned with your attitude towards ghouls obviously fundamentally changed. You must have noticed how that would look to the Investigators.”

“I have. They tried to be stealthy about it, but I know I’ve been under surveillance for two months.”

It had been two months of absolute minimal contact with Deucalion and trying to maintain a feasible balance of his old views on his profession and his new experiences, a hard two months of lying and keeping up a charade until he had noticed his new shadows slowly lose interest and disappear. While he officially had been suspended from field work for health reasons, he was aware that it had partly been due to the CCG distrusting someone that potentially might be a spy and therefore was not to be trusted on the battlefield.

“They feared you might have been brainwashed by ghouls and turned into a double agent for their causes, which was ridiculous,” Klancain confirmed. “You’re not as weak as some within the CCG think, I can’t imagine anyone making you do anything against your will and beliefs. You’re not the type who lets himself be used by someone else. That again means whatever has changed you did so deep down and whatever you were doing was out of your own volition. Considering all this and the fact that your romantic involvement falls into the same timeframe - it’s easy math, really.”

“Those are hypotheses,” Slaine argued, glad to hear his voice was still level and in control. “I did tell them the truth. I’ve been captured by ghouls and I’ve never been lying about anything in that regard. Me changing my attitude towards something less narrow-minded does not necessarily mean Inaho is-”

“Did you hear No. 1700 was seen getting into a fight with an unnamed S-rank in the 17th ward just yesterday, sustaining injuries to the right sight before killing his opponent and fleeing the scene once Investigators showed up?” Klancain interrupted him, tapping against his own arm indicating where Inaho had been bandaged. 

Slaine did not manage to keep his face unreadable at that. 

“I suppose you’re not up to date with everything now that you’ve switched to the Research Division. Orange has been lying low recently, and in general Deucalion seems less inclined to fight Investigators than before, so that encounter was a change from usual. That injury really did look painful, though.” Klancain looked vaguely sympathetic at that last sentence, but Slaine did not let himself be thrown off.

“You were still mainly guessing.”

“I was, but I’m right, am I not?”

Slaine felt the fingers of his right hand twitch as his pulse picked up, and he was acutely aware of the weapon holster beneath his jacket. He and Klancain had been quite evenly matched as children in training, but it had been a while since their last sparring match. Slaine was not entirely confident he would win in a fair fight, and the only other option was something he could not even consider. Q bullets killed humans just the same.

“You wouldn’t kill me for him.”

It was not a question, and Klancain made no attempt to get into any semblance of a fighting stance himself. Instead, he only narrowed his eyes at Slaine, not so much in anger as in anticipation.

“Of course not,” Slaine replied quietly, casting a look up and down the alley. They were alone. “You’re my brother.”

He faced Klancain again, holding his gaze.

“I’ll just have to make sure to warn them before you can relay your discovery to the CCG.”

“I don’t have to tell you that you’ll face a prison sentence for actively collaborating with mankind’s enemies and betraying the CCG.”

Slaine squared his shoulders.

“What happens to me is inconsequential.”

“Your loyalty is impressive, and the way you try to evenly distribute it between two opposing factions is, too.”

Slaine blinked, unsure what to make of this statement. His left hand was clutched around the phone in his pocket, and for the first time, he regretted the fact that touchscreens had replaced actual buttons. Typing a warning blindly no longer was possible, but taking his eyes off Klancain would be foolish. Just because had not moved yet did not mean he was not going to.

The silence between them was broken by the faintest familiar sound of something ripping, and Slaine reacted on reflex entirely, jumping to the side the same instant something red tore through his field of vision. He had drawn his gun before he had even rationally processed what had happened, whipping his head around to see the masked figure that had appeared at the far end of the alleyway. 

“I missed,” he heard a muffled voice as the ghoul drew his Kagune back in, preparing for another strike. 

Slaine kept his aim steady as he called out to his brother.

“Are you alright?”

“I’m fine,” Klancain replied, stepping closer until Slaine could spot him from the corner of his eyes. He was unhurt from the looks of it. “That person wouldn’t happen to be one of your new friends, would he?”

Another red flash cut any reply short as Slaine dodged just barely by diving for a passage branching off on the other side of the alley, pulling Klancain with him. It turned out to be a dead end and Slaine suppressed a curse as he tried the single door of the adjacent building only to find it locked.

“I take that as a ‘no’.”

Klancain sounded weirdly content and when Slaine turned towards him with a frown he saw his brother reach within his jacket and retrieving a Quinque steel hunting knife.

“Not quite Hadriacus, but we’ll have to make do,” he announced, leaning forward slightly to cast a look around the corner at the Ghoul who was casually sauntering towards them, the steps echoing between the high walls on either side. 

“You’re with Deucalion aren’t you?” the Ghoul called. Slaine ignored him, instead signalling Klancain to move to the opposite site. Even if they were not properly armed, a pincer attack might work. “I’ve seen you hang around their place the other day. I have some scores to settle with that bastard of theirs so-”

The moment the Ghoul stepped into line of fire, Slaine pulled the trigger. The first bullet hit his opponent in the shoulder, but he reacted immediately, deflecting the second and third with his Kagune. He manifested a second limb instantly and went for an attack aimed at Slaine’s chest. 

Before he had any time to even attempt any evasive manoeuvre, there was a blur of silver followed by a spray rain of blood. The Ghoul flinched back with a hiss of pain as the tip of his Kagune dropped lifelessly to the ground in between them. Klancain wordlessly switched to a reverse-hand grip on the knife and got into a defensive stance once more. There was no time for words of gratitude. 

Six bullets left, Slaine thought, taking aim anew. His chances had been worse in the past.

“You’re bloody doves,” the Ghoul ground out, clutching his injured shoulder while shielding himself and advancing slowly. His entire focus was on them, his anger and disgust practically tangible. “What the hell are those freaks at Deucalion even doing with scum like you?”

“That’s none of your business.”

The Ghoul turned a split second too late to protect his vulnerable side and the attack was so quick Slaine merely caught the result, watching in morbid fascination as a gaping hole opened up in the Ghoul’s torso. He doubled over with a gasp of surprise and the second strike that removed his head surgically cleanly from his shoulders looked almost en passant as Inaho walked into view. 

“What are you doing?” Slaine asked, too exhausted by the whiplash-inducing turns of events in the last few minutes to muster any more actual panic.

“I _was_ following you, just in case Investigator Cruhteo might try and arrest you for treason. I had to pause because I got too sick to continue, though, so pardon my late arrival.”

Inaho still looked positively ill even as he retreated both Kagune and Kakugan, taking a step back as not to be caught in the puddle of blood slowly spreading on the ground.

“You noticed I knew,” Klancain spoke up. When Slaine turned his attention back to him, he saw his brother was in the process of cleaning his knife’s blade on a handkerchief. 

“I had a suspicion and that was enough to have me worried. From what I heard about you, you’re someone very concerned with not breaking the law, so I wasn’t going to take chances.”

“Lawful enough to throw my own family into prison, that’s quite the impression you have of me.”

Klancain dropped the soiled cloth, and for a moment, they all remained standing in their spots, each wary of the other’s movements, weapons at the ready. Then, Klancain sheathed his knife. 

“I believe that there’s little more foolish than to jump to conclusions too fast if you’re not privy to the whole story. That’s why I wanted to meet you. I wanted to be able to make my own verdict on whether keeping this a secret is treason or no.”

“And what’s your decision?” 

It could just be a lie to make them drop their guard, and for a second the thought that Klancain might have been tasked with interrogating Slaine by pretending to ally himself with him crossed Slaine’s mind. But there was something about his brother’s expression made Slaine dismiss it immediately. He did not want to fight the little family he had, and the possibility that there might be someone he could be absolutely honest with was too tempting. 

“I won’t tell the CCG, you have my word,” Klancain stated, earnestly. “I told you that I don’t think you’re someone who’s easy to influence, Slaine, so you must have your reasons. Deucalion’s behavioural patterns are strange, and I was curious about them for some time. Your actions prove there’s more to it than the CCG believes as of now, and I want to know. So, tell me, the both of you, and I’ll listen.”

Slaine cast a look at Inaho, who only shrugged, signalling it was his call. He took a deep breath.

“It’s a long story.”

Klancain smiled.

“I suggest you start with the day you disappeared.”

・◇・◇・◇・

“It really was close,” Mazuurek insisted, putting down his glass with more emphasis than necessary.

“Given how many high-ranking Investigators we had with us, quite embarrassing, really,” Klancain said lightly, ignoring the indignation on Mazuurek’s face. He had surprisingly little respect for his seniors, and Slaine had wondered if that was a result of being a member of the Cruhteo family. 

Slaine sighed and took a sip of his tea. How he had ended up getting roped into near daily lunch meetings with his brother and his fellow Investigators was still beyond him, but he had to admit it was enjoyable in its own way.

“Well, it wasn’t my fault the intel we had on how many ghouls were in that hideout was off by a few numbers,” Mazuurek defended himself. “That’s on the Bureau Investigators.”

“In any case, we were lucky that Deucalion picked the same night to remove this group from their turf. A lot of them would have managed to escape otherwise,” Harklight chimed in.

He was another recent Academy graduate of about Slaine’s age, and extremely hardworking and straight-laced. For whatever reason, he also seemed very fond of him, having expressed on their first meeting that he greatly admired someone who went through a traumatising experience such as an abduction and still remained with the force. Slaine had tried to downplay it, but Harklight had continuously ignored his best efforts. 

“Luck sometimes is as vital to success as careful planning and networking,” Klancain agreed smoothly, and Slaine shot him an annoyed glare from the side.

Sometimes, he wondered who texted Inaho more these days, his brother or himself. 

_If you’re jealous, return back to the field_ , Klancain had said upon noticing Slaine’s mood the other day, looking very smug. _If you wait any longer, you’ll end up as my subordinate, dear brother._

Slaine had refrained from pointing out that the inevitable promotion of Klancain would be majorly due to the fact that he now had an entire independent squad assisting him in his missions at his disposal. From receiving insider information on dangerous ghouls to actual back-up in fights under the cover of a turf war, ever since Klancain, who different from Slaine was not under any suspicion of having close ties to ghouls, had taken up working with Deucalion, the number of successful investigations had increased considerably.

“You shouldn’t rely on good luck too much,” Mazuurek warned, and for a moment, Slaine thought he saw something akin to suspicion flicker across his senior’s face. “That is, unless you’ve discovered a way to influence the cosmos in your favour.”

“He’s right,” Slaine intervened before Klancain could take the bait, elbowing his brother under the table. “You’ll end up like me if you do.”

“That’s not a bad thing!” Harklight immediately complained, and Klancain and Mazuurek both laughed, most likely at Slaine’s pained expression.

 

“You really should be careful,” Slaine repeated later that day when they were leaving the CCG building together. “You’re not under suspicion of collaboration yet, but if these lucky coincidences become too apparent and common, you will be, eventually.”

“I know. But at the same time, them helping us means more witnesses to their politics. You convinced me, but mere talk won’t do the trick for most of them.”

“Coercing people into accepting Deucalion’s help doesn’t work, they have to come to realise its value by practical means, I know.”

“Don’t worry so much, I’ll be fine,” Klancain said, sounding utterly sure of himself. “Are you spending the weekend at their place?”

Slaine nodded.

“Convey my kind regards, then. And if you see Areash-san, you can tell her I really was in no need of rescuing during this mission, though I appreciate her assistance as always.”

“If I do, she’ll cut me, so I’ll most certainly not,” Slaine replied dryly. “They complain enough about you being annoyingly sparkly as it is. You tell her that yourself.”

Walking towards the station, Slaine thought that it really was a nice feeling to know he no longer was keeping this secret alone, and having another Investigator on his side was a good start. Inaho had mentioned it was up to the young generation to change the views of inevitable conflict, and maybe he had been right. He was annoyingly often, actually.

“Alright, then, see you on Monday,” Slaine said, making a turn for his platform. 

“You really should go back to field work,” Klancain called after him cheerfully. “Having you pretend to fight your boyfriend during encounters on duty would definitely make my job more entertaining.”

“For the last time, I’m not going back to field work!”

・◇・◇・◇・

“Good evening, Sir, if you could spare a minute? I’m Rank Two Investigator Troyard, this is Rank One Investigator Cruhteo. We’re with the CCG, would you mind us asking you some questions?”

The person asked, a middle aged, somewhat stocky man in an ill-cut suit frowned at first their identification badges, then at the two in his eyes obviously way too young agents.

“I’m a bit of a hurry, so if you could make this quick-”

“Of course,” Klancain said with a friendly smile that Slaine knew was absolutely insincere. “We only have one question, actually: Would you be so kind to tell us where to find Hellas?”

“Excuse me?”

“We know for a fact that you are part of Hellas, Ronove-san, so you really would save yourself and us the trouble of having to force the answer out of you if you could tell us now,” Slaine added lightly. 

Despite his tone, his thumb rested on the activation switch of his suitcase already. He had only recently been incredibly lucky enough to find Tharsis again during a raid on a deserted ghoul hideout, or so the official papers stated, and he certainly would not return the Captain’s favour by getting injured during such a trivial mission due to being careless.

The man looked back and forth between them, confused. He was apparently trying to figure out who was the bad and who the good cop in this scenario. By now, however, Slaine had found out people were much more thrown off by a steady treacherous affability than they were by a textbook routine, and it came easier to him, too. 

“I don’t know what you’re talking about, I don’t know what Hellas is supposed to mean,” the man replied, but Slaine caught the way the man’s eyes darted to the side, clearly looking for a possible escape route or an opening for an attack. The narrow staircase in the apartment building was bad for the former, the closed front of the two Investigators with a Quinque at hand each for the latter.

“There’s no need for you to deny that fact that you’re a ghoul and member of Hellas, Ronove-san,” Klancain disagreed, still keeping up his friendly facade. “We got that information from a very reliable source, you see.” 

The man made a strangled sound of distress and black bled into the white of his eyes. Slaine had already made his move before the change had fully taken place. The edge of Tharsis’ blade was against the Ghoul’s throat the same instant that Hadriacus’ tip disappeared in the man’s side, stopping the Kagune release short. As Inaho had said, it was a Rinkaku type.

“So, where do we find your boss? I would love to have a word with her,” Klancain repeated. 

Their target slumped back against the wall, and Slaine thought that this was a suspiciously quick surrender. The next second, the Ghoul lashed out in a mock-punch, twisting away from the blades with surprising agility for his build, his Kagune forming again for a final strike. 

Slaine turned and sliced upward in one fluid motion at the same time Klancain mirrored his movements in the opposite direction. They stepped back as their target slowly slid down the wall, his blood dyeing his suit a deeper, shimmering black. The heaving of his chest made clear he was still alive, if just barely.

“Well, it was worth a try,” Klancain sighed, reaching for his phone to call the containment unit. “I guess we’ll have to find her the old-fashioned way, then. Anyway, good work, Rank Two.”

Slaine sighed as he reverted Tharsis back into dormant state. 

“I still have First Class Saazbaum’s offer to transfer to his squad, just so you know.”

“Don’t be like that, Slaine. I think we make quite the good team, after all.”

As Klancain’s call went through and he started giving the details of the operation, Slaine just shook his head and made his way down the stairs in order to wait for the arrival of the team that would take the Ghoul to Cochlea. It was impossible to argue the fact that Klancain was right about that assessment, but it still irked him how fast he had given in.

Maybe the fact that fighting Inaho for show really had been fun had helped, but he certainly was not going to admit that to his brother.


	2. Aperitif

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is an utterly self-indulgent gift to [meguri_aite](http://archiveofourown.org/users/meguri_aite/pseuds/meguri_aite) and a prequel to the original fic of sorts.
> 
> Since I dislike leaving a story or series as "Incomplete", this marks the end of the TG!AU so far. I'm not sure if I might return to it in the future, but if I do, I'll just update here so I won't be all over the shop with this. My apologies for being so vague, but I myself hardly know what I'm going to write next, or if it all. Thank you all so much for your patience and support _(:3 」∠)
> 
> **Aperitif, der (noun)** : _alcoholic drink served before the meal_

All things considered, it had been a good week for Marito so far.

Returning to the city had been not as bad as he had feared. It was still loud, hectic and crowded with more distrustful people than he cared for, but Magbaredge had secured him a nice little apartment that was leagues apart from the dingy hideouts he remembered from earlier days. One of his new neighbours had even brought some homemade chicken stew over one evening, insisting on having a small impromptu housebreaking party _in the spirit of good neighbourship_. Marito had been sick the entire night, but now he knew who he could ask for a favour anytime, which was somewhat nice. His new day job was alright, too, and he was thankful for the opportunity, even though he still was not sure why that woman had signed him up for teaching of all things. And at least some of the colleagues at work were-

Marito came to with a groan. His head throbbed in rhythmic beats, his throat felt as sore as if he had swallowed sandpaper, and just the slightest ray of light getting through his squint had him flinch and bring up his hands to protect his eyes. He felt as if he had been hit by a truck. Maybe worse, even, since he actually could reference that exact event from previous personal experience. Well, it had been a tank and not a truck, but he was fairly sure he had felt about the same level of discomfort.

For a moment he remained still, trying to figure out how it actually worked to be conscious when your brain refused to be anything resembling remotely useful. Disregarding the temptation of just going back to sleep, he tried to focus, sharpening his senses.

He noticed the other one’s presence the same moment that person started talking.

“You’re incredibly lucky that I filled in for Kuramoto’s nightshift duty today, do you know that?”

A man’s voice, soft and yet still ringing angrily in Marito’s head. It did not belong to someone he knew, of that he was sure. Given he had not been to this city in over a decade, that was hardly surprising, especially since most of his acquaintances of back then had died. Another piece of information made it through his thoughts hazy with nausea - the smell of disinfectant, blood, and death.

Blinking into the dimmed light, he could make out the shape of a person standing at the foot of the examination couch he was lying on, blurry features and a white coat.

“Where am I?” Marito managed, and his own words were too loud to his ears.

“Ishihara Clinic,” the man replied lightly. “A passer-by found you unconscious in the neighbouring park and was kind enough to contact the nearest medical facility.”

“That happened?” Marito tried for a casual tone, but it came out more miserable than anything else as he sat up, slowly, his head spinning with the small effort. His entire body felt weak, and he had to close his eyes again. The last thing he could remember was parting with Hayashi at the station and heading homewards. The gap in between that and waking up here should really have him worried about all that which could have happened.

He found he lacked the energy to do so entirely.

“It did, thankfully so. After all, had he called the police first, by now you’d probably already have been dissected.” The man’s voice was much closer all of a sudden, sounding vaguely amused. “I’m sure you’d make for great raw material.”

In the back of his mind, a realisation dawned on Marito, and way too late a latent sense of alarm rose.

“But as I said, you’re lucky,” the man continued, standing right next to him now, hands casually in his pockets, and he remained visibly absolutely unimpressed by both the Kakugan his patient was showing openly and the telltale red shimmer of RC cells manifesting around his arms, “because I was on duty and of course noticed what was wrong with you. Though, it’s admittedly the first time I’ve seen a ghoul suffer from alcohol poisoning to this degree.”

Marito remained quiet, neither relaxing nor preparing for an attack, focussed on trying to estimate the level of threat the other person might pose. He looked harmless and normal enough, a young, fairly handsome man, and yet even in Marito’s state and surrounded by the sickening smell particular to hospitals, there were traces of a unmistakable scent to the man that confirmed his suspicions.

“No personal experience with it?” Marito tried, keeping his tone as blithe as possible, and the other’s smile widened.

“Oh, not ever since I was very young and foolish. Most types of alcohol the way humans consume it are pure poison to ghouls, after all.” He paused, looking sincerely contemplative for a second. “Well, it’s for humans as well, of course. Not that it stops them from drinking it, no matter how often I tell them.”

“A ghoul doctor working in a general clinic and worrying about the health of human patients, that’s rare.”

“Aah, yes, I suppose some might find that odd. But the truth is, after growing more and more advanced in dismembering and destroying human bodies, I became more and more interested in the practice of mending them again. Their fragility compared to us is kind of enchanting in its own way, don’t you think?”

“I can’t say that for all of them.” Marito noted that the other man showed no trace of invoking Kakugan or Kagune, but years of painful experience had him unwilling to drop his guard just yet. Something about the doctor radiated absolute confidence while lacking all aggressiveness, and those were the types one had to be the most careful about. “So you’re not interested in patching your own kind up?”

“I rarely deal with ghoul patients in this clinic.” The man maintained his friendly aura, and Marito wondered why he had this odd feeling of wariness about him at these words.

“I suppose I was lucky after all, then.”

Marito swung his legs over the edge of the examination couch and tried to stand up only to find the ground beneath his feet oddly uneven. At first, he wondered just what this hospital had done to its rooms before the dizziness really caught up with his mind and the doctor put his hands on Marito’s shoulders and pushed him back into a sitting position.

“Take it easy. Koukaku might heal the quickest, but it will still take some time for all the poison to be removed from your system.”

There was underlying reproach to his tone again that sounded strangely over-familiar to Marito given they had just met, but he was grateful for the literal support at that moment, or else he feared he might topple right over.

“Actually, I’m curious. You certainly aren’t inexperienced enough not to know these effects, so how come you managed to get into this bad a state?”

“One of my new colleagues celebrated his birthday by going out for food and drinks tonight and I was invited along,” Marito begun explaining with a sigh, bringing up his hands to rub his eyes. “They are a fairly likeable bunch, and he insisted I stay. I didn’t want to turn them down, but it went on for longer than I had expected.”  
The pressure on his shoulders vanished all of a sudden and when Marito blinked his eyes open again, the doctor was holding out something to him that at first glance he mistook for an ice pack before he recognised the standardised shape and layout of medical blood bags.

“Here, drink. We don’t have any deceased patients stored in this clinic, so that’s all I can offer. Should help sober you up a little, though.”

Marito was too surprised to act for a second. Then, he accepted the offered liquid meal without any more hesitation.

“Thank you,” he said, earnestly, tearing the plastic open slightly at an upper edge and taking a sip. It was far from a proper meal, but everything right now was like water on a burning fire. He felt his head clear up almost instantly.

“Being so dedicated to getting along with humans and blending in you risk your health, that’s both impressive and stupid. Impressively stupid, maybe.”

In contrast to his words, the doctor actually sounded pleased at Marito’s explanation, and Marito filed it away as just one more thing that seemed very weird about this person.

“Maybe, but I enjoy the peace and quiet when I can, so a little inconvenience like this is nothing. They’re mostly alright. Humans, I mean. You must think so, too, working here, right, doctor?”

“Ah, I’m someone who also prefers blending in with their society to open warfare, no doubt.”

The doctor took back the empty plastic container from Marito and walked over to the other end of the room to dispose of it, talking from over his shoulder.

“My family actually has been in the business for generations and runs a private clinic downtown, mostly for rich human patients. Though they’ll also accept ghoul walk-in customers with no questions asked, of course, so I suggest next time you plan on poisoning yourself, you go there.”

“Your family?”

“Aah, right, I forwent introductions, excuse me.”

The doctor returned and extended his right hand to Marito without seeming to care for the proximity to the looming manifestation of the Kagune from the wrist upwards.

“My name is Yagarai Souma, nice to meet you.”

“Marito Kouichirou, likewise,” Marito replied, finally willing the RC cells back into his body again.

There was an almost expectant gleam to Yagarai’s eyes, and when Marito withdrew his hand again, he promptly asked: “You haven’t been living in this part of the city for long, have you, Marito-san?”

“What gave it away?”

“I just think someone from these parts would have heard of my family’s name at some point.”

“Seems like I’ve met quite the celebrity without knowing it, then. What did you say, I really am lucky.”

Marito made another attempt at getting up, and this time, the floor remained thankfully stable as he straightened first himself, then his clothes.

“Thank you very much for your help. It’s been definitely preferable to spending the night unconscious sobering up in the park.”

Not that it would have been the first time, Marito had to admit to himself, but he was not going to tell this new acquaintance of his.

“Nothing to thank me for, it’s my profession, after all. You should be thankful to the person who brought you here.”

Yagarai made short pause, before continuing, looking more serious.  
“You should be more careful in the future, though. In this ward, it’s not only the Investigators that are troublesome. Being defenceless might just as quickly get you killed by others of our kind.”

Marito hummed vague understanding while digging in his pockets for his phone. He already knew what was coming before he saw the small envelope in the corner of the screen as he flipped it open.

“I appreciate your concern,” he said, slightly distracted by the creeping feeling of dread as he read the one very curt and deceptively neutral-in-tone message by his boss inquiring if, as he had already ditched his nightshift duty, he intended to be at least on time for work in the morning. “But I can take care of myself, usually.”

Looking up, he noticed Yagarai had watched him with an expression somewhere between pity and amusement.

“Well, if you say so. Just keep in mind you can’t blindly rely on people helping you next time.”

“Oh, I know that.”

Yagarai quietly fell into step with him as Marito walked towards the door, and then down the corridor towards the clinic entrance.

“And that’s why I appreciate your kindness all the more.”

Marito smiled, content to have managed to catch the seemingly so smooth doctor off guard at least once during this encounter. He did not care much for appearances or what others thought of him, but he was aware that he had probably left quite the pathetic impression with the other man. Most ghouls thought it a fatal weakness to bend too much for pretend-humanity’s sake to begin with, even if they did not first meet him passed out and sick after an evening of acting the part.

“Take care, Marito-san,” was all Yagarai settled on, and Marito left with a final wave in his direction, stepping into the first light of dawn outside. If he hurried, he might even make it to work on time, reducing the amount of his shortcomings he would inevitably get lectured on by Magbaredge later by half, which was still better than nothing.

This week could definitely have gone a lot worse.

 

・◇・◇・◇・

 

All things considered, it had been a bad week for Yagarai so far.

Mima-san from across the street somehow had managed to nearly cut off one of his fingers for the third time this year, and Yagarai had wondered just when that man would learn to stop trying to sharpen his knives himself. Probably never. Kumagai-san had dropped by five times assuring she was dying of what really only was a mild cold, and Yagarai had been severely tempted to diagnose the woman with hypochondria. And on Tuesday evening, a hysterical Asano-san had dragged her son into the clinic who had proven he really did not have that skateboard trick down yet. Granted, Yagarai had seen way worse than an open fracture wound in his life, but he could have done without the mother fainting on him and hitting her head on the cupboard with medical supplies in the process.

So by all means, Yagarai thought he really had deserved his coffee break. That was, he did for all of ten minutes before Kuramoto came to him, saying a patient had just arrived that insisted on being treated by Yagarai-sensei, and Yagarai-sensei only. Yagarai sighed, left his coffee to the cruel fate of ending up cold and undrinkable, and walked over to the examination room, wondering what this was going to be about. Such specific requests were not exactly common, and it made him curious.

Last time it had happened, he remembered, was when it had been Ayane-san who had dropped by with a lot of excuses and only admitted she had been trying to find a way to ask him out when he had asked in genuine concern if she was truly alright. This time, he was met with a very different sight instead, however.

“What are you doing here?”

Yagarai did not bother with pleasantries, barely having shut the door behind him, and in mild shock stared at the man who was casually sitting on the examination couch.

“I came to see you.”

Marito looked entirely at ease, but there was the impossible to miss scent of blood clinging to him, and Yagarai could not help but worry instantly.

“You’re injured?” he asked, more for formality’s sake, and Marito shrugged off his jacket in silent response, revealing the blood stained shirt beneath.

“I had a run-in with a couple of Doves earlier, and sadly not the feathery variant.”

The joke was lost on Yagarai as he walked over to Marito, who was in the process of unbuttoning his shirt with the calm aura of someone that definitely had been through pain like this before.

“This looks bad,” Yagarai observed, looking over the gaping wounds on the other man’s shoulder, which showed no signs of closing.

“It’s not healing,” Marito confirmed what had been on Yagarai’s thoughts that second. “I shattered one of their Quinque and I think parts of it got stuck.”

Yagarai winced at the phantom pain of sympathy the mere thought caused him, and yet, when he peered at Marito’s face, the man seemed fairly relaxed given the circumstances.

“So once I’d managed to shake those guys off, I thought I should probably have that checked out by my local doctor.”

“You should have gone to my father’s clinic,” Yagarai said automatically. “I don’t even have Quinque steel syringes here, so I won’t be able to remove this under local anaesthetic.”

Marito shrugged his good shoulder.

“This place was much closer, and I didn’t want to risk walking out in the daylight bleeding all over the place for longer than necessary. And don’t worry about the pain, I’ve been through much worse.”

Yagarai sighed, moving to prepare gloves, disinfectant, pincers and bandages, not before locking the door, just in case. When he carefully wiped the blood off Marito’s back to assess the wounds more accurately, he noticed proof to the other’s testament.

“For a Koukaku type to scar like this, these must have been severe wounds,” he noted quietly, tracing some of the faint white lines with his fingertips before remembering his task and picking up the pincers from the metal tray. “Do you mind telling me about it?”

He saw Marito take a breath to steel himself and knew that the man probably was aware of the fact that Yagarai was trying to distract him with the question.

“They were,” he began, and Yagarai carefully picked out the first of the Quinque shrapnel pieces. “But I escaped with my life, unlike most others. I’m certain you’ve heard of what the Doves called Heaven’s Fall operation.”

“You were there?” Yagarai asked, genuinely surprised, and let the second piece drop onto the tray. The blood clinging on to it dulled the clatter, but at least the first of the multiple long gashes seemed to slowly close, now, layer for layer of tissue reconnecting.

“Yes. It was a massacre more than anything, on both sides. For every one of us they killed, I think they lost one of their own, too, a pointless attempt at showing strength. I barely survived, but none of my friends lived through the raid on our ward.”

“I’m sorry I’m making you recall such a painful experience.”

Yagarai washed off the pincers in antiseptic before moving on.

“I don’t mind telling you.”

He continued to work in silence for a few minutes, and the only signs of discomfort his patient showed were the occasional hitches of breath and the tensing of muscles. When he moved on to the biggest gash yet, Yagarai finally voiced out loud what had been weighing on his mind ever since he had opened the door and recognised his unexpected acquaintance from a few weeks prior.

“You must have heard the rumours by now.”

“There’s a lot of rumours flying about in a city this big.”

Yagarai frowned at the obvious evasion of his implied question. Marito did not give off the impression of being an overly dense person, and that made his return to this place even weirder. Careless he might be, but not suicidal.

“I meant those about my family and me in particular.”

“I heard that the Yagarai Clinic’s head physician temporarily dismissed his own son over the circumstance of him being in the habit of occasionally killing patients.”

Marito’s voice had not changed tone in a bit, and Yagarai allowed himself to take this as a good sign as he dropped another shard into the tray.

“Killing and eating them,” he supplied casually.

Marito’s huff turned into a hiss as Yagarai pulled free a piece that had been embedded particularly deep.

“Yes. Ah, and it wasn’t the human patients.”

“That was all you heard?”

“Well, there was also talk about how there is a particularly strong ghoul in this ward that exclusively preys on his own kind.”

“And you had no thoughts on that?”

Yagarai carefully removed the last of the shrapnel, dabbed the wounds with more antiseptic and prepared the wound dressing.

“I think that for all the talk about Kakuja being clinically insane by default, you seem fairly normal, doctor.”

Marito tilted his head back to shoot Yagarai a smile crossing the line somewhere between mocking, warning, and friendly.

“The normal reaction to hearing such things would be avoiding the ghoul in question,” Yagarai replied earnestly, wrapping the first layers of bandages across the other’s torso. “Especially if they happen to be true.”

“Is that so?”

“Most would fear getting killed and eaten.”

“You didn’t do either last time, and it would have been too easy a kill, too.”  
Marito reached up to keep the end of the dressing in place without having to be asked as Yagarai reached for the adhesive bandage.

“Maybe I was just in a generous mood last time.”

“In that case, maybe I’m just arrogant enough to think I could fight you should you feel different about it now.”

“Injured as you are?” Yagarai asked with amused scepticism, finishing the final wrap. He allowed himself to lean closer, still, brushing his fingers over Marito’s neck. “I could easily kill you, you know.”

“I’m stronger than I’ve probably looked to you so far.”

Marito glanced at him, making no move to avoid his touch. Different from last time, he did not even summon his Kagune, either, but if that was foolish trust in Yagarai not possibly having any evil intentions towards him or utter confidence in his fighting power, Yagarai could not say. He decided not to put the theories to the test.

“I’ll take your word for it, Marito-san,” he said, stepping back from the examination couch. He carefully sealed the Quinque fragments into a plastic bag he put into his pocket. He could not risk simply disposing off them within the hospital, after all.

When Yagarai turned again, Marito had already dressed and was stretching the arm on the injured side gently.

“They say our kind tastes awful. So I wonder, why are you doing it?”

Yagarai blinked at the casual tone. Most ghouls who had found out about his feeding habits hightailed it instantly, or at the very least expressed their distaste clearly. Marito had sounded merely vaguely confused, looking at him expectantly.

“I was curious what would happen, from a scientific point of view, sort of. Not all of us have the predisposition for becoming Kakuja, and even fewer can control the transformation. I wanted to test if I could. Probably a bit of a reckless decision, but I was young.”

Marito frowned in a way that clearly communicated that from his point of view, Yagarai still was young even now, and Yagarai had to laugh. Something had caused the other man shift into a more serious mood, it seemed.

“So you’ve amassed extraordinary fighting power but aren’t doing anything with it. Sounds like a waste.”

“Would you rather have me going on random killing sprees just because I can?”

“No, that would be a problem. I’ve just wondered-”

Marito paused, looking Yagarai over again, and he thought it felt as if some sort of verdict was being passed upon him.

“Yes?”

“You seem like you’re a very reasonable person, doctor. I’ve wondered if you might be interested joining a group of likeminded guys. In regards to all the coexistence issues, I mean.”

“You’re here to recruit me?” Yagarai asked, amused.

Marito shrugged with a sheepish grin.

“Well, I thought I should at least try. The boss can be a bit intimidating, but I think you’d get along with the rest really well, though you might have to adjust to some of the overall rules. No ulterior motives, I promise.”

Yagarai let the thought play out in his mind for a moment. Ever since deciding to keep his distance from his family for the time being he had not been part of any official group. Not that he had missed such a thing, but now that this person offered the opportunity, he suddenly felt the overwhelming inclination to say yes, without having learned about the terms and conditions of the affair.

“I’d be very interested in meeting them,” he heard himself say.

This week had definitely just improved immensely.

 

・◇・◇・◇・

 

All things considered, it had been a successful week for Magbaredge so far.

They had managed to seize hold of another building within their chosen territory by means of what Mizusaki had called _unorthodox and inventive business strategies_ and Kakei had referred to as _downright blackmail_ , but what mattered in the end were results.

The fewer transactions which had to be conducted by means of underhanded techniques rather than respectably through their front, the better. Additionally, the strategic placement of Marito and Kaizuka in teaching positions at the district’s high school had already paid off as they had been able to vouch for the acceptance mid-term transfer students. Making sure the young ghouls got proper education was one of the first vital steps to ensure a normalcy and cover for them, and Magbaredge was quite proud of seeing her efforts being rewarded that soon.

Even more enjoyable, in a way, was the fact that some good things came to pass without her even having to work for them in any form.

“Good morning to you, Captain,” one of these things just greeted her in front of her office door with a friendly smile, and Magbaredge returned the gesture.

“Good morning, doctor. I hear you’re settling in well?”

“No doubt thanks to your hospitality. I’ll resume practice at my family’s clinic next week, and I hope I can repay you for your trust in me soon, then.”

Harmless words, as if their meaning was not tied to the plan of exploiting the larger clinic’s deceased for Deucalion’s own purposes. Magbaredge nodded in agreement and accepted the coffee mug the man handed her.

While Magbaredge had encouraged everyone to try and recruit other ghouls working towards the same goal, she had to admit the day Marito of all people had shown up with The Surgeon in tow, she had seriously considered rewording that instruction for the future. She had shot Marito a sharp glare, but he had only shrugged.

_“You said Deucalion could use a doctor, I found one. That’s all there is to it.”_

Yagarai Souma had introduced himself with a smile and gone on adjusting to the organisation’s rules effortlessly. In the few weeks since him joining, his medical expertise had already come in handy multiple times and Magbaredge had begrudgingly admitted that apparently, Marito was not bad at reading other people after all. While the tales of Yagarai’s past had spread quickly, he still had managed to win over most of Deucalion’s members. It was not hard to guess why.

“It’s us that are obliged for your help,” she said, taking a seat behind the desk. It definitely had its upsides renting out official business quarters, she decided, casting a glance out of the window overlooking the cityscape. Not quite the financial district yet, but a different animal from the cellars and deserted houses from the past altogether. “Which reminds me, you’ve probably heard we’ve acquired a new apartment building near the station. If you’re interested in one of the units-”

“Thank you very much,” Yagarai interrupted her gently, and Magbaredge turned back, eyebrows raised, “but I don’t want to impose on your generosity like that. Also, I’m quite happy with the arrangements as they are right now.”

Magbaredge regarded the man in silence for a bit, but he did not grow uneasy at all. He was not someone intimidated by unasked questions, and to be honest, it was none of her concern.

“I see.”

Yagarai smiled in reply, and she thought there was a trace of gratefulness as to her not pushing the issue to it.

“Still, thank you for the offer, I appreciate it a lot. I’ll go over the shipment orders for the basic medical supplies now, if anything comes up, call me.”

“Yes, thank you.”

He had not been gone a full minute that Magbaredge was prevented from starting on the paperwork again by a half-hearted knock on the doorframe. When she looked up, Mizusaki had already entered, as per usual.

“Was that the doctor just now?” she asked without any preceding greeting, and Magbaredge huffed.

“Yes.”

“He’s surely feeling at home here, doesn’t he. Is he still staying at the Lieutenant’s place?”

“Yes, and it seems it’ll stay that way.”

Mizusaki remained blank-faced as usual, the tiniest frown betraying a moment of confusion before shifting into low-key surprise.

“Oh. I didn’t know that it’s like that with them. That explains some things, I guess.”

“Mizusaki-kun,” Magbaredge sighed, taking a sip from her coffee. “Do you know why you’ll never get a date? It’s because you’re judging people too fast.”

“Making decisions on the spot is my strong suit, I thought.” As always, her friend took the playful jab in stride. “And in this case, it’s not even an issue. _I_ wasn’t one of those hellbent on getting closer to either of them.”

For a moment, Magbaredge wondered if the implication included her, and was half about to stress the fact that she had not searched out her brother’s best friend for any such reasons, but then decided not saying anything on the topic probably was the best course of action.

“Anyway, good for them. And good for us, because as long as it holds, we have this man’s loyalty for sure.”

“Mizusaki-kun, this sort of pragmatism is also something you shouldn’t voice out loud if you don’t want to scare people away.”

“I don’t have to with you,” Mizusaki replied, unfazed. “But actually, I came because Chiba’s estate agent just called about renting out the warehouses at the intersection. He wants you to call him back at the earliest convenience and extends his kindest regards. The usual drivel no-one cares for.”

“I hope that’s exactly what you told him.”

“Of course.”

Magbaredge smiled, leaning back in her chair.

If this day was any indication, the future of Deucalion was looking bright.


End file.
